


A Long Hot Bath

by Daphne_Dark



Series: Surpassing The Love Of Women [1]
Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Comfort, Fondling, Homoeroticism, Love, M/M, Nudity, Some Humor, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne_Dark/pseuds/Daphne_Dark
Summary: A  tender, sometimes funny, sometimes awkward tale of friendship, love, sorrow, and comfort.  Takes place on the "shoulder" of S2 & S3





	1. Landing in Reykjavík

Oberstgruppenführer Smith was tired and cranky to begin with, but when the plane touched down at Reykjavík, he felt positively livid.

He stormed down the gangway, and looked around for a pilot, a tickets desk - even a stewardess would do. There had been a terrific mistake and someone would pay, once he got to the bottom of this.

Finally he saw someone coming toward him, in a Schutzstaffel uniform no less. Finally, a chain of command and some answers! He walked toward the officer… and was surprised to see the friendly, loyal face of his own Sturmbannführer, Erich Raeder. The junior officer saluted and he returned it, then shook his aide’s hand warmly.

“Erich! Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes… even if I don’t _quite_ understand what you’re doing here. Aren’t you supposed to be watching things for me in New York?”

“I left everything in good order, and things are in the hands of the capable Major Klemm. He knows to call if anything arises that calls for our immediate return.”

“Surely we’re not staying here for much longer? What’s going on? I heard nothing about maintenance, but I can’t imagine any other reason why we’re grounded. Or for that matter, why you’re meeting me at this airport.”

Erich sighed. “It’s… a rather special assignment, sir. Last-minute. It arose just before you got on the plane in Berlin.”

“Well, then, why didn’t they tell me there? Should I have stayed?”

“No, sir, you need to come back to New York.”

The Oberstgruppenführer was mystified. Had some enemy of his regained power? “Is the Reich in trouble? Is Himmler unsafe or unwell?”

Erich turned his hat in his hands awkwardly. “No, sir, none of that, not in the least. Please. We need to go to the Reykjavík Hofhaus for an important meeting. A discussion that can’t be postponed.”

Smith reared back, somewhat shocked. If anything, Erich’s demeanor suggested a personal crisis… but surely Raeder wasn’t in trouble? That could not be; Erich was loyal, capable, trustworthy, and good almost to a fault. But he would help his Erich in any way possible.

“Very well. Lead on, Sturmbannführer.”


	2. Bad News

“But, whyyyy!?” yelled Smith, for what seemed to Raeder like the 50th time.

They had gone to the Hofhaus, where Erich had booked a suite. He knew the Oberstgruppenführer would need all the comfort he could get, after the news that Thomas had turned himself in.

The one bottle of American Reich whiskey had vaporized as Smith absorbed the news, and so they’d started on the crappy aquavit. They’d both drunk some - this wasn’t easy on either CO or aide – but the native booze seemed to be wrecking Smith. Erich looked about at a few cracks in the plaster, where Smith had punched. There’d be a bill for that sent to requisitions…

The enormity of Smith’s grief was still coming out as rage, and he was not happy that Mrs. Smith had not bothered to tell him the news.

“ _Why_ couldn’t she have come to me in Berlin? I would have come home with her immediately..”

“Oh, sir, I think she wanted to… but someone has to be there with the girls…

“What about her husband? _I’d_ have been with the girls too, now…”

“She thinks about you all the time, she wants you with the girls… but she is struggling too.”

Smith let out an enormous sniffle. “I bet. I bet the new doctor gave her lots of new pills to help her, too.”

Erich was silent. He’d visited Mrs. Smith and knew she was hitting both the pills and the booze. He figured that could wait.

“Well, at any rate, you’re here. That’s something,” Smith hiccupped.

Smith took another swig from the bottle – he’d dispensed with tumblers two wall-punches ago – and weaved over to the bed, flopping down on it facedown.

Now it was coming. At last, John let himself feel his grief. It was devastating. He screamed into the coverlet, pounding the mattress something awful. Then the tears came, and chest-wracking sobs. The bed shook, and Erich feared for his boss. So this is what a broken heart looked like. For once in his life, Raeder was glad he didn’t have children…

Another horrid scream into the blankets, and then Smith turned his head. His handsome face was swollen with tears, and Erich stroked his cheek. What could you say to a man in these circumstances?


	3. Drawing A Bath

Erich stroked his CO’s cheek with only the purest motives of comforting him. Yet he had always loved this man, from the day Smith summoned him to his office and made him his aide. Not just his body – his agile and cunning mind; his seemingly exhaustive intelligence; his confidence and charisma; and not least of all, his goodness, and personal kindness towards himself.

But the fact that the man was stunning didn’t hurt. And now, he was touching that unbelievably strong and gorgeous face. 

Erich sighed; he knew it was wrong. He tried to sublimate his love into service. 

Smith sat up and slumped into Erich, the two men holding each other. John took in a breath, and let out raggedly. “Erich, would you do something for me?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Draw me a bubble bath. I’m sure I need it, and maybe a bath would make me feel better. It did when I was a kid…”

Erich went into the bathroom, turning on the taps, and looking at the Hofhaus’s toiletries. No bubble bath, but there were a few bottles of shampoo. Erich smelled it; vaguely citrus-y. He had some of his cologne - which happened to be the same as Smith’s. So he combined the two and put in a good amount. The sandalwood, spice, musk, and citrus made a comforting smell…

“Whoopsie! Erich!... help!”

Raeder went to the bedroom where Smith was swaying, and looking at his shirt. Somehow it had gotten buttoned wrong, and his CO had his hand caught in his suspenders.

“Sit down, sir… you’re a bit of a mess.”

“Thank you, Sergeant!” said Smith, giving a mock salute. Erich ignored that and undid the suspenders to free Smith’s hand. John stood up unsteadily and his pants fell down. Oh good heavens, thought Erich. His commander was going commando. He felt he must be blushing, but he told Smith to sit down and got the shirt off him.

“Well, you are going to help undress and bathe me, aren’t you Sturmbannführer? I think I could use a hand.”

“I’m on it, Sir. Stay here while I check the water.” The tub was still filling so Erich finished undressing him. He had to get the boots off, and John compliantly laid his calf on Erich’s lap, humming while the aide pulled. He wished John wouldn’t wriggle his booted foot… it was tickling and teasing unbearably…

At last the tub was full, his CO was undressed, and Erich carefully helped John into the tub so he wouldn’t slip in his tipsy state.


	4. The Bath

Smith insisted he needed to be shampooed, so Erich started there, working and massaging his hands through Smith’s magnificent hair. He felt some of the tension start to drain – Smith’s, anyway. Erich felt awkward enough for both of them.

“You know,” said Smith, “that’s how my Mom did, when I was little.”

“I’m glad, sir.” He rinsed Smith’s hair and Smith grabbed a towel to start drying it, motioning Erich to continue with the bath part. Erich washed Smith’s face, tracing the beautiful structure of it… the cheekbones, the brow and eyebrows which were such a perfect frame for his lovely eyes. Smith looked at him tenderly. He started to say something, and then a few tears started.

“Oh.” Erich started wiping at them, “I am so sorry, sir.”

“It’s ok, Sturmbannführer, don’t try to wipe them away, they… they’ll just keep coming…” he buried his head in the crook of Erich’s arm, shaking.

After a while the shaking stopped. “There, there,” said Erich, feeling rather foolish about it, and he laved some warm water on Smith’s back. Smith let him, so Erich did it again. Smith sat up and leaned forward. “I always liked back rubs.” So Erich lathered his back, working the muscles. Smith seemed to ease up and leaned into it. Erich took the time to make sure he worked all the muscle groups.

John sighed gratefully. “Thank you, Erich. The backrub meant a lot.”

The blood went to Raeder’s head. Not having grown up a teen or young man with either Hitlerjugend or SS Barracks, perhaps Smith didn’t realize what exactly it did mean. Raeder remembered his own time in barracks. If a comrade who shared your proclivities let you rub his back, then he accepted you as a friend, and might be open to starting a courtship.

But he couldn’t think of that now. Smith leaned back, obviously waiting for the bathing to continue. Erich was fascinated. Full frontal, only a little distorted by the bathwater.

Smith rolled his eyes, not really focusing; he really had drunk too much aquavit, thought Erich. Though maybe the bath would drive some of it out of his system. He seemed like a ragdoll as Erich moved his arms, soaping his armpits well, and working his way down Smith’s chest.

The man was magnificent. There had been rare occasions in a locker room where he and John had seen each other. Smith never took notice, of course, but Raeder remembered that handsome torso. Neither bare like some hairless boy, nor overly hairy like some of those SD gorillas. Just the right amount of hair. That treasure trail… Erich was torn. He wanted to follow it, he wanted to lean over and kiss John’s nipples, he _wanted_ …

He started to suds his CO’s legs. Erich admired the man’s calves, his beautiful feet. He gave the feet extra attention, and found that Smith was really very ticklish.

“Relax, sir… I know it tickles.”

“I can’t help it, Erich, but I’ll try to relax…”

Erich rubbed his feet, massaging. He’d learned something about foot massage – acupressure - from the few times he’d gone to the JPS. It seemed to calm Smith.

He felt considerably less calm himself. Could the man be more beautiful? Even his toes were exquisite gems. _Gems_ , thought Erich, oh boy, I am losing it. But if he could just put those toes in his mouth, sucking gently…

Stop it, stop torturing yourself, he told himself. Though Erich had to admit he was enjoying the thrill of seeing and touching and thinking about everything that was so forbidden.

But there was this business of washing his CO, so he continued sudsing Smith’s legs. He was as gentle as he could around the kneecaps, but could tell Smith was ticklish there too. Had this been anyone else he could have used that to his advantage. Resolutely, Erich tried to push away the image of John Smith giggling from tickle torture before collapsing into a lover’s arms… oh, no, this was so wrong…

Suddenly, Smith cried out. “Oh… my son, my son… everything we did, Helen and I… it was all for him and the girls!” He was sobbing again.

“I know, sir, I know” said Erich. He put an arm around Smith, letting him sob it out. Oh, to see this beloved man in such pain…

Smith took some deep breaths. “You are so good. So kind to me, Erich.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I’d better get on with it, thought Erich, so he lathered Smith up to mid-thigh and rinsed. He paused, wringing out the washcloth

“And Erich… my midsection is dirty, too.”

“Mid-…”

“Come, Erich, we’re both grown men, we know how nasty things get down there.” Smith paused, lip trembling, “…Something my boy will never know…” Tears started afresh.

Raeder took the soap again, making plenty of lather, hoping to maybe obscure the tempting view. He was expected to be thorough, so he was, even working shampoo through Smith’s pubic hair. The curls were perfect. Erich swallowed and moved so that he was slightly behind his CO. At least Smith wouldn’t see him blushing…

Though he probably didn’t need to bother. Smith seemed completely oblivious to this whole operation. In fact he was humming something that sounded like nursery rhymes. This was incongruous in Erich’s experience of anyone having his balls and inner thighs stroked. He sudsed the man’s balls thoroughly, and could have sworn that heat emanated from them.

He washed the rest of Smith’s front. Erich fought off an audible gasp at the size and feel of Smith’s member, even flaccid. He was perfect, and his parents somehow had prevented that Semite trick of “medical” circumcision. This meant he’d have to clean the glans completely, especially since Smith would comment on any lagging. Not that he minded, no matter how awkward; he loved it…

Smith continued to la-la-la the childhood rhymes and stopped short. Uh-oh, thought the aide. Was he in trouble?

“You know, Erich… the funny thing is, I think he would have loved South America. He loved animals and could have farmed llamas. Did you know that when he was little he loved to look at atlases?”

“No I didn’t, sir. My little brother was the same way” he said, thankful to be distracted.

“And between shoring up conquests and making treaties with the Empire, we had to get a new one just about every year. “

“I remember. Mom sometimes couldn’t get the new ones right away, but the school library always had the newest.”

Smith nodded. “Thankfully the youngsters grew up after the worst of it; and at the beginning of real progress.” Smith paused. “Soap and water.”

“What, sir?”

“Soap and water. My backside. Erich! Wash my anus!”

“Yessir, right away, sir!…” This was either heaven or hell; Raeder couldn’t decide. But he would be diligent in his duty. Ahh, this man’s buttocks, so smooth and firm. And then, washing between… Erich felt lightheaded.

A stifled giggle broke from Smith. Erich was horrified; his finger had penetrated. It was accidental – his fingers were very soapy - and only up to the first knuckle, but enough to be noticed. Raeder blanched. But Smith had gone back to his own thoughts, talking to himself, or maybe to Thomas, and occasionally sniffling. Good thing, thought Erich. But oh dear, Smith promised to be sooo nice and tight. If he were any other man…

But at last they were done, and Erich again helped John out, ready to dry him.


	5. The Importance of Hygiene

“Be sure to dry me _briskly_ , Erich. None of that “patting” and “gentle blotting” that Helen tells me about from her magazines. Friction is good for the circulation!”

“Of course!” It certainly was a different sensation to be rubbing a towel over John. He wanted so badly to get rough with it, and it _was_ doing wonders for Erich’s circulation, at least down below.

“People are getting very slack these days with hygiene,” mused John. “It comes from being soft. People don’t remember the War. I was in the Solomons, and do you know the best advice I ever got?” Raeder shook his head. “ ‘Take care of your feet, Lieutenant, if you want to get out of here alive!’ ”

John continued to regale him with war stories, which took some of the edge off, and finally Erich got him to the bed. John pulled the covers almost clear off and lay on his back, all of him on full display. All that towel-rubbing had given him a slight erection, and Erich tried not to notice, thinking instead about his CO’s nightclothes. But when he looked through the suitcase, he saw no pajamas or anything. Erich looked through his suitcase to see if he had an extra pair… and realized in his haste he had forgotten his own.

“My pajamas are dirty, Sturmbannführer. They’re in the laundry kit.“

“And I forgot to bring any.” Erich could have cursed, if he were the cursing kind.

“Let it go. You’ll have to, I guess.” Smith seemed less frantically tipsy, at least.

“Yes, sir,” said Erich, stripping off his clothes. His CO was watching so he folded them neatly, hoping that John wasn’t judging his somewhat pear-shaped body. As a member of the SS, Erich was fit enough to pass inspection, but he knew his didn’t compare to cut-glass bodies like Klemm or some others. Or, for that matter, his CO.

John seemed impatient. He patted the other side of the bed. “Well, hop in, Erich. Warm up this bed, before I freeze to death.”

So Erich did.


	6. A Decision

Incredibly, they were in bed together, and naked at that. John was in a chatty mood again, and was babbling about the hotel in Berlin, and how it compared to this one. Raeder’s head was swimming, just from being near this man he had loved from afar for so long. He barely registered the words… Erich snapped out of it enough to mumble and answer

John had rolled over on his side and was scooting back to his aide. “Cuddle up against me,” he ordered. Erich had little choice… Smith was scooting against him so fast that Erich would either roll over and hold his CO, or end up being scooted off the narrow double bed.

Erich’s arm was around Smith’s chest, and for lack of anything to say, he started stroking his neck. “I like that,” said Smith. “That reminds me of being a boy in the Midwest. We would have thunderstorms. Oh, I know, we get them in New York, but nothing like back home. They build up on the plains and are really awe-inspiring. I liked the lighting, but was always afraid of thunder. So I’d crawl into by big brother’s bed and he’d hold me and rub my neck and back until the thunder stopped and I could go to sleep.”

Erich continued to stroke John’s hair and neck and shoulders as his CO continued to talk about growing up in the Midwest. An Iowa boy himself, Erich could relate. John told him about his brother, how much he looked up to him, how his brother was always kind to everybody, always good, and that he died too young. It had broken everyone’s heart…

John fell silent for a while, and Erich looked over his shoulder. Smith had covered his hand with his eyes, remembering. After a while he started masturbating. If you could call it that… he just put his hand around his shaft and moved his hand intermittently. Not enough to really do anything. Erich saw it for what it was, comfort, not pleasure. Smith’s shoulders were shaking, so Erich gently rubbed them until the shaking subsided.

They lay there together for a while. If we were lovers I could kiss him and numb the pain, thought Erich. But he mustn’t think such things…

Smith then lifted his head and reached for his aide’s hand. “Erich, will you hold me?” Smith asked, and took Erich’s hand and put it around his penis. It was heartbreaking to see this man, so strong and forceful, suddenly needy, lost like a child. Which didn’t help Erich’s rising erection when he felt that wonderful cock…

Smith continued the same small rhythmic movement with his hand – or Erich’s hand, guided by him – and started to yawn. He adjusted the pillow beneath his head and drifted off, still clenching his penis with Erich’s hand.

John’s hand grab had pulled Erich closer to him. This was harder than the bathtub, even.

Ever since joining the SS, and certainly since becoming Smith’s aide, Erich tried to keep sexually continent, stifling his desires. But up until then, he had indulged himself; always carefully, but always successfully. Men called him a “cinnamon roll” - so sweet he’d be gobbled up - but he used that to his advantage. They didn’t expect the seduction.

Neither would Smith. It would be so easy. Change that rhythmic stroking to something edgier, more suspenseful. His cock was already against Smith’s backside, due to how his CO had shifted him. A slight move downward, against those fantastic balls and between his thighs… Erich knew that if he started interfemoral, Smith would yield, gladly. They always did, even the straights. A couple of the right strokes with his hand, and John would come, and then Erich could have his way…

Erich bit his lip hard, struggling. It would be so lovely to be in each other’s arms - lovers, at last. They could blame it on the Aquavit; a one-night stand. No one but Klemm knew where they were, and Klemm had made enough overtures that Erich knew that he could control him, if it ever came to that. Fantasies crowded Raeder’s mind, taking him away…

But no. He couldn’t do that, no matter how hard desire was clawing at him. John Smith was the best man Erich ever knew, and Erich’s love was boundless. Smith _trusted_ him. And he was going through such pain with his son.

Dammit, he was a cinnamon roll, after all. But he couldn’t have Smith, not like this. It was enough to have gazed on his beauty, to feel his body close. Or maybe it wasn’t - but it was all Erich would take. He would feast on the crumbs, for the rest of his life.


	7. All That Happened

Erich nuzzled deeply under the covers, enjoyed his dreaming. He had a slight morning erection, and it pressed into something lovely and warm, even while his torso was up against something firm. He dimly realized his hand was being held around another, who was having his morning erection too. And then he realized…

His eyes flew open, suddenly. At the same time, the man next to him jerked wide awake. Erich quickly removed his hand, but too late… Smith had noticed.

“Wha… what happened?”

“We fell asleep, sir.”

“I can see that. I mean, with this!” He motioned to their genitals.

“Well, sir…last night, we drank a lot…”

“Go on.”

“And I… gave you a bath, and then we went to bed. _To_ _sleep_.”

“And then?”

“Why, you were… mumbling, and we ended up next to each other, and…” oh, god, this was embarrassing, “Well, you started to masturbate. I tried to ignore that, but then you moved my hand over your… your penis… and then we both fell asleep.”

John was silent for a while, absorbing the information. “What else did we do? Erich, I am going home to my wife, my poor _wife_ …”

“By all that I honor, sir, that is all that happened.”

“So… other than the… weirdness of waking up like that… we did nothing that would compromise my faithfulness to Helen?”

“Well, it might look funny, but… no. We did no sexual act. Nothing that affects your marriage to Helen.”

Smith sighed with deep relief. “I’ve always said you were a good man, Erich. There are enough degenerates and Röhmians left in this man’s army that would have tried to take advantage of me in a drunken state. And an equal number of blackmailers.”

“I would kill anyone who tried to embarrass or blackmail you, sir.”

“I know you would Erich. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you. Now, let’s get some damn clothes on and get out of here!”


	8. Back To New York

They were alone, walking to the private plane that would take them back to New York. Smith stopped to take out a cigarette out of his case and offered one to his aide.

“Sturmbannführer, I need to talk to you. But when this conversation is done, I don’t think I need to tell you that last night gets mentioned to no one. Even though nothing happened.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Erich… don’t be worried. Did you really think I didn’t know about you? And did you really think it would make a difference?”

Raeder’s mouth dropped. “Oberstgruppenführer, I have tried to always curb and control…”

“And you have. Admirably, and at great cost. You go home alone to an empty house. Even at this time of sorrow, I don’t have to face four lonely walls.”

“Believe me Erich, I’ve had both men and women look at me, flirt with me, and I daresay, fantasize about me. I know what lust looks like. Even with your utter professionalism you couldn’t hide that from me forever.”

“But if you knew, sir, then why were you so… so..”

“Willing to let you touch me?” Smith let out a short laugh, “Well, it’s certainly not inclination.“ He took a drag on the gauloise and exhaled. “What I saw last night was a man who’s worked for me all these years, not just as an aide or loyal officer, but a true friend. Someone who came to me when even my wife wouldn’t. Someone who would give his life for me, and almost did, at one time.” Smith paused “I also saw a man whose loneliness was as great or greater than my own.”

“As I say, I don’t share your tastes. But, with it being just you and I, far from anywhere, free from this constant surveillance that is an SS man’s life… I wondered how could I reward you. What could I do, what could I submit to, that would be all yours.“

Erich was dumbfounded – and deeply grateful. “Sir, how can I ever thank?…”

Smith waved his hand, “Don’t thank me! I got a comfort out of it, too… not erotic, just simple human warmth. I know that for you it wasn’t enough, or what you actually deserve.”

“Sir, it _was _enough.” Raeder squared his shoulders. “And I have nothing more to say… about what didn’t happen.”__

__“Me neither.” The Oberstgrüppenfuhrer put a hand on his shoulder. “So, Erich, all that’s left is to catch our plane and go home!”_ _


End file.
